The Curious Case of Mr. Squirrel is a 5-part tragicomical play I am writing, an allegory written in part in Shakespearean verse. The action of the drama begins with the indictment of Mr. Squirrel for various perfidious and debauched acts–the plaintiff Mr. Treeman charging the defendant with theft, assault, incitement to riot, and sexual intercourse with a dog skull, among other crimes. It follows this rough trajectory:
Act I: The Indictment
Act II: The Rebuttal
Act III: Surrebuttal/Nolle Prosequi
Act IV: The Chase Scene
Act V: Denouement
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This is a scene from the end of Act III, where the Mr. Treeman is speaking to the judge, revoking one of his original indictments:
I submit, Your Honor,
that I have been scurrilous
and concede that the purpose of Mr. Squirrel
or any of his so-called scandalous Sciuridae
upon or with the dog skull
perchance not being to have intercourse
but rather to whisper
perfumed and profound
meditations in mortal embrace
as sacred pectoriloquy upon its face
and that should it have been
any mere engorgement of eyesocket
with mammal member
no prosecution would uphold
on the grounds that cranium copulation
being not the horror
at once fancied within
the narrow can of my own
acorn skull
but rather, in imperial height
of enlightened and splendiferous
ecstatic communion
and delirious dance of death
contoured himself a fine and furious pleasure
and by so doing
took hold life’s diaphanous reigns
to live brightly
as a sovereign in his royal land.
Wherefore from this inchéd moment
no further word of inflicted venom
nor indecent indictment
will from these lips spring forth
towards the defendant
a salutation I do abhor
and revoke a slander that once did
sit true within my breast
aye, it was nearer a fire
in the chambers of my spleeny heart
but now, like fruit too long
in summer sun
rots graveyard bound
the very taste of it
makes of my tongue a corpse
Oh fuchi
indelicate
bitter herb!
forewith merely to submit, Your Honor,
this humble bow
to the injured one,
and if I may, issue worship
to replace despiséd hatred:
“Holy Mad squirrel,
I wash your feet
with my solemn and happy tears.
I’ll pray a thousand years for your life.”
nolle prosequi
Now I see
Rumi and the Shadow 